The Forest
by Cyrokin
Summary: Tim found himself alone in the woods, unsure of how he got there or why he came there in the first place. He took a couple of steps forward, trying to remember. Then his foot bumped something. Tim looked down to see something buried in a pile of dead leaves below. He crouched down and swept the leaves away, discovering a white mask underneath...


"The Forest" - W. K. Cyrokin

 _A Marble Hornets Fanfiction_

Tim found himself alone in the woods, unsure of how he got there or why he came there in the first place. He took a couple of steps forward, trying to remember. Then his foot bumped something. Tim looked down to see something buried in a pile of dead leaves below. He crouched down and swept the leaves away, discovering a white mask underneath.

 _His_ white mask. The mask that seemed to chase him everywhere.

Tim knocked the mask aside, then rose and walked in the other direction. There had to be a way out of this forest. Just as he was starting to figure out which was he wanted to go, something pale appeared out the corner of his eye. He turned his head just as the ever-present hooded man stepped out from the trees, scowling as he always did.

Tim froze. "You."

The man gave no audial response. Instead, he tossed that cursed mask down at Tim's feet.

Tim growled and kicked the mask aside. " _No_ ," he said firmly, turning on his heel and choosing another path. A little ways down, he looked over his shoulder to see if the hooded man was following him. He was not. He merely watched Tim from a distance, his red cloth eyes boring into the back of Tim's neck. When he was safely out of sight, Tim broke into a jog, hoping to escape this place as quickly as possible.

Suddenly, his feet gave out on him and he landed face-first onto the forest floor. Tim sat up slowly, sputtering bits of leaf from his mouth. When he turned around to see what had tripped him, he mentally screamed in frustration.

It. Was. That. Stupid. Mask. Why did it always seem to follow him? Why did that hooded guy have such a fascination with stalking him and Jay everywhere they went?

Speak of the devil, there he was. And he was approaching quickly, rage peeling off him in waves. If he wanted a fight, he could have it, Tim thought, rising and ready to defend himself. The hooded man raised a fist to strike. Tim blocked it, but the man used his other hand to grab the fabric of Tim's jacket shoulder and throw him down to the ground.

The hooded man then pinned Tim down, planting his foot on his opponent's chest. He picked up the mask and attempted to force it onto Tim's face. Tim fought back, furiously trying to keep the hooded man's arms from coming too close, but the man got closer anyway. "No!" he growled as he struggled. "I don't _want_ to be like you. I don't _want_ to be crazy! I'm _done_ with it! Hear me?"

With that, Tim found a strength he never knew he had. He twisted the man's arms away, pulling himself up with an angry grimace. "HEAR ME!?" he shouted, casting the man aside and leaping to his feet. The man in the hoodie frowned on, but did not stand up. He was probably smugging beneath that mask of his.

"You want me to wear that mask?" he spat. "Forget about it!" He stormed closer to the hooded man, furious. He grabbed the man by the front of the hoodie and pulled him up with supernatural strength. Tim's face felt warm, he noticed- too warm, even for anger. And why wasn't the man fighting back? Something was wrong here-!

Tim slammed the hooded man against a nearby tree, then reached for a knife he had at his side. He angled the blade at the man's neck, deciding whether or not to get rid of this problem now. After all, he _was_ rather helpful to Tim and Jay at times. But other times, he was just a pain in the side, bent on throwing them through his little mind game as he pleased. Tim didn't want to play anymore. _No more_ , he decided, poising the knife to stab.

"Tim!" a voice said. Tim paused. It sounded familiar, and it came from beneath the hooded man's cloth mask. A greater curiosity took Tim. Who was under the hood?

Tucking the knife beneath his palm, Tim cocked his head. "Who are you?" he asked aloud, though his voice sounded oddly muffled. Was he...? No. Could he have...?

"Tim, it's me," said the voice again.

Tim touched his face, feeling cold plastic rather than warm flesh. He growled, panicked. "But who are you?" he asked loudly. He ripped the fabric from the hooded man's face.

"It's me! It's Jay!" declared the startled face of Jay.

Tim's eyes snapped open for real this time. He was in a bed, in a motel room- the same one he had gone to sleep in earlier that night. Jay had gotten up from his own bed and was looking down at Tim, concerned. "Jay?" Tim breathed.

"Are... you OK?" Jay asked. "You started shouting in your sleep. It... kinda woke me up."

 _How much did I say?_ Tim wanted to ask. Instead, he diverted the question. "What time is it?"

"Um..." Jay checked the alarm clock. "Around four in the morning."

Tim sat up in the bed, sighing and planting his feet on the floor. "Let's get going. We can't stay here," he stated, grabbing a navy plaid shirt and heading toward the bathroom.

Jay was silent for a few seconds. "Why?" he asked finally. "We still have a few hours before daylight."

Tim answered mentally. _Because the mask is following me. Even if Alex doesn't, the mask surely will._ But he couldn't let Jay know that. Tim finished buttoning his shirt, not even glancing upward. "I just think we should leave. Start getting ready."

Jay moved in closer to Tim, his concern only growing. _The masquerade wasn't working_. "Tim, there's something going on with you. You can tell me what it is."

 _So there's something going on with me. What else is new?_ Tim mentally retorted. He pushed past Jay's slight form gruffly. "I'm fine," he lied. He bent down and threw his few belongings into his blue duffel bag, then zipped it up. "Get dressed, Jay."

"Not until you tell me what's wrong. This isn't just because of some _nightmare_ , is it?" His tone was becoming progressively angrier each time he spoke.

Tim stood up, shooting his unfortunate roommate a dark glare. "Jay. I _said_ it's _fine_ ," he snapped back, more tersely this time. He held his gaze for a few moments longer.

Finally, Jay held up both hands. "OK... it's all fine," Jay gave in, not without a heavy hint of annoyance in his tone. He grabbed some clothes and started for the bathroom. "Everything is fine."

Tim sat back down on his bed, sighing. No, everything was _not_ fine. He knew, Jay knew, the hooded man knew that. But as long as he could fool himself into believing that lie, perhaps it _could_ be true. Maybe everything _would_ be fine.

 _Someday._

 **,.~*~.,**

 **Just posting this here from my DeviantART. I don't write much fanfiction nowadays but I figured** **I should post what I've written for MH somewhere besides DA. :)**


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